


There is Only Passion

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Boot Worship, Captivity, Come Marking, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Master/Servant, Masturbation, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, One Shot Collection, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Psychological Torture, Public Blow Jobs, Rare Pairings, Submission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Set in the Imperial Era. Obi-Wan Kenobi is captured by Maul and brought before the Emperor. Maul is looking to earn his way back into his Master's good graces, Vader is out for blood, and Sidious is the cat that got the cream. With enemies on all sides, Obi-Wan must try to survive the machinations of the Imperial Court.A collection of short, trashy One Shots. Tags will be updated accordingly.
Relationships: Darth Maul/Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Sheev Palpatine, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Wilhuff Tarkin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Sidious/Maul + Obi-Wan

**Author's Note:**

> A series of loosely connected One Shots all set in the same verse, mostly involving Obi-Wan and the various Sith in his life, with cameos from other Dark Side users and Imperial Officers. Tags will be updated.

_“Ah, my wayward apprentice. I see you have brought me a gift.”_

Obi-Wan cracked a bleary eye open, staring up at the dark ceiling that hung oppressively low. He looked around, blinking away the fog, the crust of dried tears. A thin, reedy moan of despair escaped his lips. He was sprawled on his back, lying on the cold, damp floor of his cell.

He was not alone. Two cloaked figures were standing opposite him. Or rather, one was standing, one kneeling.

His cellmates ignored him - even as he rolled onto his side, spitting up a mouthful of blood - speaking to one another in low, hushed tones. 

"Yes, Master," came the soft-spoken answer. Obi-Wan recognized the voice as belonging to Darth Maul. The tattooed Zabrak was on his knees, his horned head bowed in supplication, eyes lowered - almost as if in prayer - only daring to glance up for a moment at a time. Obi-Wan never imagined that he could look so pious, for lack of a better word.

The second robed figure was staring down at his kneeling subject, his pale face obscured beneath a voluminous hood. He unfolded his arms and reached out, cupping the Zabrak's cheek with a small, shriveled hand. His bleached-white skin glowed in stark contrast to the vivid red and black markings on Maul's face. "It has been some time, hasn't it?" His voice was a rasp. Unfamiliar, yet familiar. "Did you miss me, Lord Maul?" 

Maul whined in response, rubbing his cheek against the proffered hand. He grabbed a fistful of his Sovereign's robe and pitched forward to bury his face in the silky, black cloth, muffling his words, "Yes, Master." The Emperor reached around to cradle the back of his head. 

"Show me," he crooned, letting his robe fall open. 

Maul acted without hesitation, parting his chapped lips to receive the Emperor's twitching cock that now hung exposed, half-limp in the chill air. He guided the silken head into his mouth, flicking his tongue out, and then swallowed him to the root. There he remained lodged for a time, pressed between the Emperor's pale thighs, clinging to his robes like a drowning man. He pulled back slowly, moaning low in his throat. 

Obi-Wan looked away, but unfortunately he could not block out the obscene noises that now filled the room. Maul was bobbing his head up and down, sucking greedily as he worked. The Emperor was speaking in a breathy voice:

"I've missed this. You were always my favorite, Lord Maul. My first--" He broke off with a gasp, followed by a soft sigh. "Yes... like that. Very good. Isn't he skilled, Master Kenobi?" The Emperor finally acknowledged him. Obi-Wan looked up with a start, meeting his gaze for the first time, a pair of gleaming yellow eyes peering out from beneath the cowl of his hood. His thin lips were stretched in a wide satisfied smile as he grasped Maul's head in both hands, tracing his fingers along the Zabrak's jawline.

He snapped his hips, thrusting into the Zabrak's mouth and holding him there, groaning as Maul tightened his lips around the base of his cock, sucking him deeper. 

Obi-Wan swallowed the rising bile in his throat. When he spoke, his voice was a dry rattle. "I wouldn't know, Your Majesty." 

The Emperor clenched his blackened teeth in a grimace. His pleasure was beginning to break. He gave a few more uneven thrusts, forcing Maul to remain still as he used his mouth, only to shove him off at the last moment with a vicious snarl, painting and splattering the Zabrak's face with his seed, marking him. He squeezed the rest onto Maul's tongue, before tucking himself back into his robes. 

He paused to admire the Zabrak, shuddering and gulping for air, and then turned his gaze to Obi-Wan once again. "Not to worry, Master Kenobi," he said with a pleased sigh, looking him up and down. "You'll learn soon enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. Sidious/Obi-Wan

Obi-Wan could barely stand when he was finally dragged before the Emperor, weak from lack of food and dizzy with dehydration. His mind was a haze, drugged and cut off from the Force. It was almost a relief when the faceless clone trooper ordered him to kneel. A large hand shoved him from behind, and his knees hit the carpet with a muffled thud. The trooper left him there, exiting the room without a word. 

A small dark figure was standing by the window, gazing out over the glittering cityscape. “Well now, Master Kenobi. What shall I do with you?” 

Obi-Wan lifted his head at the sound of his name, squinting into the pale glow of the setting sun. His eyes watered. He'd not seen the light for however many days - weeks? - he'd spent locked in his cell. His vision swam into focus, and gradually the red room began to take shape. He was back in Palpatine's scarlet office from his days as Chancellor. The desk had been removed, and the empty throne loomed before him, cold and imposing. 

He must've dozed off for a second, because when he opened his bleary eyes, the Emperor was there, staring down at him from his seat on the dais. Obi-Wan felt his spine stiffen in surprise. He hurriedly looked away - lowering his gaze to the floor - but not before catching a glimpse of a pale, scarred face leering at him from beneath the folds of his hood. The face of Darth Sidious-- his true face.

"You look tired, poor thing," his voice soft and cloying. "Shall I take you to bed?" Obi-Wan shivered in response, dressed only in a thin, tattered gown that hung off his thin frame. He could feel the chill of the Sith's gaze on his bare skin. "Or shall I give you to Lord Vader? Or perhaps Maul?"

Obi-Wan's mouth felt too dry to speak. He swallowed tightly, wetting his chapped lips, and said in a rasp, "I would rather stay with you, Your Majesty." It's not as if he had a choice. Maul hated him with the passion of a burning star, and he imagined that Anakin - _Lord_ _Vader_ \- felt much the same. He had not seen Vader since their fateful duel on Mustafar, where Obi-Wan had left him to burn. But Sidious...

Sidious hated him in as much as he hated everyone - Jedi in particular - but he was not blinded by it. He might torture Obi-Wan, but he was less likely to kill him. If he could please the Emperor--

Cold, skeletal fingers gripped his chin, tilting his head up to meet the Sith's yellow gaze. Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered, but he could not break away from the Emperor's hypnotic stare. He was frozen in place.

“Do you want to please me?” Brushing his fingers along Obi-Wan's stubbled jaw. Apparently Sidious had picked up on his wayward thought. 

"Yes," Obi-Wan breathed, shoving all thoughts of escape to the back of his mind. There was some truth in what he said. He did want to please the Sith, if only to survive another day, but would it be enough? 

The Emperor dropped his hand, releasing his hold on Obi-Wan. He laughed low in his throat, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "We shall see. Stand up." Leaning back in his throne, he watched as Obi-Wan struggled to his feet. "Don't be shy," he purred. 

Obi-Wan stripped the gown off and stood there, naked and shivering in the chilled office. He stared down at his feet. He could only imagine what he looked like, thin and mottled with bruises, a shadow of his former self. Even his beard was gone, shaved off sometime during the night. 

"Turn around." The Emperor's voice was a cold command. "Now, bend over. Display yourself to me." Obi-Wan closed his eyes. The shame would come later, but for now he was too exhausted to do anything other than obey. He remained like that - bent over at the waist, folded in half, blood rushing to his head - until his knees finally gave out. The Emperor tutted softly as Obi-Wan picked himself up off the floor, trembling slightly.

"Hmm." The Emperor pretended to think for a moment, then said, "Brace yourself on all fours. Yes, like that. Very good." Obi-Wan flushed at the praise in his voice. He felt even more exposed than before, propped on his hands and knees with his ass in the air. "Now, look at me."

Obi-Wan was still facing away from the Emperor. He had to crane his neck to see behind him. He looked up at the dais, to where the Emperor was sitting with his thighs splayed, slouched low in his throne. His pale face was shrouded by his hood, beady yellow eyes gleaming from a distance, half-lidded in drunken pleasure as he idly stroked himself beneath his robes. He did not make a sound; or if he did, Obi-Wan couldn't hear it over the pounding in his head. 

Is this it? Is this all he wants?

Obi-Wan held his breath and waited. His skin prickled with fear, and it was all he could do to keep still when the Emperor rose out of his chair to approach him from behind. He tensed for the worst, but the old man didn't touch him. "Do you think I would sully myself? Look at you. You're filthy." He was still stroking himself, and Obi-Wan felt his release the moment it occurred. The Sith groaned as his came, spilling onto Obi-Wan's soft, curved flesh, aiming his stream at the clenched opening between his cheeks, then streaking his thighs with a few more spurts. 

He left him there, dripping onto the carpet. Obi-Wan was ordered not to move, or he might've collapsed after the first hour. It's not that bad, he told himself, watching the sun set behind the skyline.

It could be worse. 


	3. Sidious/Obi-Wan + Vader

“Where is he?” Vader rumbled, his cold, mechanical voice vibrating with barely suppressed rage.

It was late in the evening when he was finally let into the Emperor’s private throne room. The throne was empty, however. Instead, His Majesty was lounging on an overstuffed red couch, picking at a bowl of fruit.

The Emperor looked up at the sound of Vader’s heavy footfalls on the carpet. “Who?” He asked, feigning ignorance. He did not seem offended by Vader’s late-night interruption. On the contrary, he looked almost pleased to see the young man, smiling thinly as he approached.

Normally Vader wouldn’t dare to intrude on his Master at such a late hour - and he fully expected to be punished for his insolence - but he’d heard a rumor that Kenobi had been sighted on the palace grounds.

“ _Kenobi.”_ He came to a stop in front of the couch, but he did not bow. Another punishable offense. “He’s here.” He could feel the familiar Force presence nearby, but it was weak, faint.

The Emperor nodded slowly, “Yes, he’s here.” His eyes were fixed on Vader, drinking in his reaction. “Maul captured him on Tatooine, of all places,” he added, twisting the knife.

“Where?” Vader demanded. His anger made him bold. “He’s not in the holding cells.”

“No. I’ve moved him to more _comfortable_ quarters.”

Obi-Wan drifted in and out of sleep, sprawled across a large, firm mattress. His eyes fluttered. He could still taste the drug-laced wine on his lips. 

He tried to move, to sit up, but his arms fell limp at his sides, too heavy to lift. He could only stare up at the dark ceiling, stripped naked and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Sidious, snake that he was, kept his quarters uncomfortably warm.

"Vader was asking about you," a raspy voice said from the shadows. The Emperor appeared at his bedside a moment later, holding a bowl of fruit. 

Obi-Wan swallowed tightly. His new role as the Emperor's kept Jedi was not exactly secret. Sidious never missed an opportunity to humiliate him, parading Obi-Wan in front of his guests like a trophy of war. It was only a matter of time before word got back to Anakin-- Lord Vader. "What did he say?" He asked, slurring his words. 

The Emperor placed the bowl aside and sat down on the edge of the bed. A pale, shriveled hand emerged from the sleeve of his robe, reaching out to cup Obi-Wan's cheek. His skin was cold to the touch. "He’s still very upset with you," he murmured softly, tracing his thumb along the smooth underside of Obi-Wan's jaw. 

That was putting it mildly, no doubt. "He wants to kill me." Obi-Wan wasn't sure if he said this aloud, or merely thought it. 

The Emperor's laugh was more of a low, sardonic chuckle. "If he wanted to kill you, he should’ve done so on Mustafar. I have not forgotten his failure that day. I don’t think Vader fully understands the true measure of my disappointment-- but he will soon learn." Despite everything, Obi-Wan felt a twinge of sympathy for his old padawan. He had seen firsthand what the Emperor did to those who displeased him.

With this in mind, he tried not to shiver as the Emperor's icy-cold fingers ghosted across his skin, down the side of his jaw, tracing the line of his neck. Obi-Wan was drugged, cut off from the Force, but the Sith's dark presence was suffocating as he leaned in for a taste, kissing Obi-Wan chastely on the lips. His hand slipped lower, pinching Obi-Wan's nipple, and then lower still, dipping below his navel. 

Obi-Wan stifled a gasp as the Emperor began to fondle him. He was already painfully hard from his long, drug-induced sleep.

He closed his eyes and turned his cheek, pressing his face into the pillow, as Sidious purred in his ear: "So eager," wrapping his fingers around the base of the Jedi's thick shaft, squeezing gently. Obi-Wan felt his cock throb in response, hot and heavy in the Emperor's hand.

"Look how you respond to my touch," the Sith breathed in avid fascination. His thin, bony fingers were stark white against the Jedi's hard, flushed, velvety flesh. He pumped his fist, and Obi-Wan bit his lip and came with a strangled moan as the Emperor lazily stroked him through his orgasm.

Obi-Wan was dripping sweat, but the air around him suddenly grew cold. "I don't like it when you muffle yourself," the Emperor said in a low voice, wiping his hand on a silk napkin. He stood up, his yellow eyes glinting with malice. "Or must I find another way to make you scream?"

Obi-Wan was still panting heavily, sprawled on his back with his legs spread. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty," he whispered between breaths.

The Emperor nodded, smiling graciously. "You'll do better next time."


	4. Tarkin/Obi-Wan + Sidious

After a full day of holding court in his private throne room, the Emperor finally dismissed his advisors with a wave. Obi-Wan watched as they filed out, one by one, until only the thin, gaunt figure of Wilhuff Tarkin remained, leaning stiffly against the arm of a couch.

“Will you have a drink with me, my dear Wilhuff?” The Emperor asked, descending from his throne to join Tarkin in the red-carpeted sitting area. Then, without waiting for an answer, he raised a finger and signaled to Obi-Wan, who hurried over, clutching a bottle of wine to his chest. This particular bottle was from the Emperor’s personal stock, far better than the watered-down swill he usually served his guests.

Tarkin nodded in thanks, but he did not sit until the Emperor was settled in his chair. “Master Kenobi,” he said after a moment, turning his flinty-eyed gaze on Obi-Wan. He stared up at the former Jedi, as if seeing him for the first time, but Obi-Wan had been in attendance, stationed at the Emperor’s side throughout most of the day. “I hardly recognized you.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head in shame, dressed in a sheer, silk tunic which did little to hide the marks on his skin, a pair of red jeweled Force cuffs fitted around his wrists. “Governor Tarkin,” he said blandly.

“ _Grand Moff_ Tarkin,” the Emperor corrected him with a knowing look. “We were only just discussing Wilhuff’s promotion. Weren’t you listening?” As he said this, the Sith unfurled a tendril of his dark power and reached out to caress Obi-Wan's mind, plucking at the whisper-thin bond between them. 

Obi-Wan shuddered in response, a deep blush staining his cheeks. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I was... distracted," he managed to say as a pair of invisible hands roved beneath his tunic, grasping, pinching, clawing. Sidious had been tormenting him like this for the better part of an hour, tracing every inch of his skin until his body was chafed and sore. 

Ghostly fingertips brushed his tender nipples, coaxing out a silent sob of desire and frustration as Obi-Wan struggled to maintain his composure. He whimpered softly as the phantom digits slipped lower, stroking the underside of his eager cock.

He was half-hard beneath his tunic, but Tarkin at least had the decency to pretend not to notice as Obi-Wan bent to pour him a drink. He began to tremble when he felt a sudden pressure nudge him from behind. The Emperor was still sitting in his chair, but Obi-Wan could _feel_ his hands on his skin, trailing over his backside, spreading his cheeks, teasing the rim of his entrance with long, spectral fingers.

The Emperor pressed his fingers against the ring of muscle, probing deeper. Obi-Wan flinched at the unwanted intrusion. His hand jerked, spilling wine down the front of Tarkin's uniform. The Grand Moff hissed through his teeth as Obi-Wan stumbled back in horror. He'd seen Sidious torture his underlings for less, but the Emperor's reaction was surprisingly restrained.

“Clean it up,” he said calmly, speaking to Obi-Wan as if he were a child.

"My apologies, Wilhuff," he added.

Tarkin unbuttoned his soiled jacket. His undershirt was stained and his lap was sopping wet. He spread his legs, wine pooling between his thighs, soaking into the couch cushion. Obi-Wan kneeled at his feet and used the hem of his own tunic to wipe up a few drops on the floor. 

“You missed a spot.” Sidious pointed to a red droplet of wine beading off the polished leather of Tarkin's knee-high boot. Then, seemingly as an afterthought, he said, “Use your mouth." Obi-Wan froze in place. From above, he heard Tarkin let out a sharp breath. Both men looked to the Emperor, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. 

Obi-Wan knew better than to argue. He ducked his head, flicking out his tongue, and licked a stripe up Tarkin's boot. He could barely taste the wine over the bitter tang of shoe polish. The smell made his eyes water. He pulled up for air, slightly dizzy.

Tarkin was sitting tensed on the edge of his seat, gripping the arm of the couch with white-knuckled fingers. His eyes were dark and glazed over with lust, but his face was set in stone, betraying no emotion. He drew in a long breath, flaring his nostrils, and said in a low, harsh undertone, " _Again_."

He sat back with a grunt, palming himself through his damp, woolen breeches as Obi-Wan set about licking his boots. The Jedi grabbed Tarkin's knee to steady himself. Swallowing his distaste, he kissed and nuzzled the worn leather, dragging his swollen tongue along the inner seam. He didn't know how long he was expected to do this, but he kept at it until his mouth was dry. 

Pausing for a moment, Obi-Wan rested his cheek against Tarkin's thigh. His lips stung. 

The Emperor let out a soft sigh of pleasure. "Look at him, Wilhuff. Isn't he lovely?" 

Tarkin merely grunted. He shifted in obvious discomfort. His erection bulged, straining against the seam of his crotch, but he made no move to touch Obi-Wan until the Emperor gave his permission: "You may finish in his mouth." 

The ease with which he said this made Obi-Wan flinch.

Tarkin noted his reaction with cold curiosity. "Why don't you have a sip of wine," he suggested, unhooking his belt. Obi-Wan had more than a sip, gulping down half the bottle as Tarkin freed himself from his trousers. Obi-Wan had a brief moment to catch his breath before the Grand Moff inched forward in his seat, brandishing his stiff cock in one hand. He cleared his throat impatiently. 

Obi-Wan didn't wait to be told. He crawled into the space between Tarkin's legs and bent to lick a drop of seed, sealing his lips around the proud, rosy head as the Imperial methodically stroked himself to completion. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and waited. He could still taste the wine on his tongue, but the sweetness was soon drowned out by a splash of salt as Tarkin abruptly reached his climax, spurting down his throat with a growl.

Obi-Wan pulled back, swallowing a mouthful. His hand reached for the bottle, and he took a swig of wine to wash it down. 

"Come along, Wilhuff," the Emperor said, rising to his feet. He brushed past Obi-Wan, ignoring him for the moment, and stopped in front of the couch to offer Tarkin a napkin. The Grand Moff dabbed at his lap. His uniform was soaked through. "Let's get you cleaned up."

The Emperor turned, flashing Obi-Wan an ominous smile. "I'll have one of my servants draw you a bath." 


End file.
